Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 96167 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96167 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
“Tell me his name.” He shifted around to her front, his hands lathered in soap.
“Who?”
“The one who took your virginity.” His voice was soft, at odds with the teeth-breaking set of his jaw.
“Um…” She blinked through the deluge of water. “Oscar.”
“Oscar?” He scowled, nostrils flaring. “That’s not a name. It’s processed meat.”
“It is a name.” She was pretty sure Oscar had been a manwhore, so maybe processed meat was more fitting.
“Did he make it good for you?” His tone was incisive, guttural.
“Two pumps and done.”
His entire demeanor darkened. She knew what he was thinking. It should’ve been him.
He lathered her body, his hands sluicing soapy water from her neck to her toes and everywhere between. Fingers curved around her breasts, stroking, molding. She twitched away and raised her head, her gaze entangling with the luminous gold of his eyes.
Her breathing shortened, and his touch slid lower, down her sides, around her waist, stopping to palm her ass and squeeze her flesh.
“Matias, don’t.” She gripped his wrists, tried to push him away.
It only made him clench harder, putting enough pressure against the muscles on her backside that pain twinged through her nerve endings. Weightless energy charged through her—an intense kind of energy that buzzed like an angry vibrator in her pussy.
Straightening her upper body, she flexed her thighs, trying to block out the sensations he stroked between them.
He seemed to be pondering dour thoughts because his caresses grew rougher and less controlled, making her cringe.
“When you escaped Van Quiso and called me…” He crouched before her, eyes on her cunt as he traced the seam with a warm, wet finger. “You were a virgin then.”
“Yeah.” A shiver trickled down her spine.
She was grateful to have left the attic with that one part of herself intact. At the same time, it became a burden she’d carried for months after. The label of innocence didn’t quite fit after what she’d been through with Van. It’d felt like she was holding on to her virginity because of the abuse she’d endured.
When Oscar propositioned her in a coffee shop six months after her captivity, she’d been more than ready to prove she wasn’t a fearful victim.
“You should’ve fucking told me how to find you.” Without warning, Matias shoved a finger inside her and used it like a hook to yank her closer.
She gasped. Trying to buck free, she smacked at his arm and kneed his chest, but couldn’t dislodge his finger. “I didn’t know you anymore.”
He’d been led from his home by armed men, and in the few phone conversations they’d had before her abduction, he’d acted so damn secretive and shady. He’d told her nothing, refused her questions, and hadn’t come back for her when she still lived in the grove.
“I didn’t trust you.” She twisted her hips away from his hand, going nowhere. “As it turns out, I have killer instincts.”
“You were wrong.” He launched to his full height and squeezed her neck as he added another finger inside her, thrusting them mercilessly and wrenching a whimper from her. “And you’re wrong now. I will never forgive you for hanging up on me. For making me wait a fucking year before you called again. Making me wait while you spread your legs for other men.”
There was so much pain in his voice, in the taut line of his shoulders, the glaze in his citrine eyes, the vicious drive of his fingers making her pussy ache.
“You’re hurting me.” She clawed at the hand around her neck.
“You hurt me!” He tightened his grip, holding her back against the wall. “You were mine, goddammit!”
“Yours?” Her temper inflamed, flushing her system with adrenaline. “When I called that day, were you mine? Were you a twenty-year-old virgin holding out for his childhood sweetheart?”
“I did wait for you!” Flexing his hand at her throat, his other withdrew from between her legs to stab through the wet strands of her hair. He yanked at the roots as he tipped back her head. “I waited until I could come back for you. Waited a fucking year. Then you disappeared, and I thought…” The anger drained from his voice, and his forehead dropped to her temple, his breath hot on her face. “I thought you were dead.”
Her throat closed up, her eyes burned, and she felt an overwhelming urge to wrap her arms around him.
He’s a slave trader, living in luxury that’s paid for in innocent lives.
“I was gutted.” He trailed fingers over her shoulder and around her breast, the hand on her throat loosening. “Consumed with rage. A nineteen-year-old kid with so much hatred eating me up. I fought and drank and killed.” He pinched her nipple, squeezing painfully. “Then I fucked a whore in an alley.”
Her chest caved in beneath a barrage of jealousy. And rage. So much fucking rage it seethed from her pores. He should’ve returned for her. Should’ve talked to her, confided in her, trusted her. Then he never would’ve had to stick his dick in a whore. Fuck him.